


The Two Words That Mean So Much

by Amorette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 10:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: One day, Dumbledore really was going to push him too far.





	The Two Words That Mean So Much

**Author's Note:**

> Very old. Looking for another old, unfinished story and found this. What the heck.

Two Words That Mean So Much

 

Severus Snape slammed the door to his quarters, activated the myriad of wards that would keep out any wizard except Lord "I'm So Scary" Voldemort and Albus "I'm so Loopy" Dumbledore, and stalked over to his desk. He threw himself into his chair, snatched a fresh scroll of parchment off a stack and pulled out his very favorite quill, the raven feather with the gold tip. Pushing aside the red ink he used for marking and the green ink he used for personal correspondence, he pulled out his blackest ink and began to write.

Across the top, he wrote the date, followed by the saluatation, "Headmaster," followed by the words, in large quivering capital letters, "I QUIT," followed by his signature.

Then he sat back to admire his efforts. Ask him to teach that miserable, arrogant Potter brat Occulumency, would he, thought Snape, scowling. Dumbledore kept taking and taking and then taking more but this time, he had gone too far. Dumbledore knew full well the sorts of humiliating revelations that could come out during Occulumency lessons and to ask Snape to risk exposing his innermost thoughts to that cursed spawn of one of his worst enemies was just too much.

He would quit. He would storm up to the Headmaster's office, throw his resignation letter on Dumbledore's desk and. . .

Snape sighed, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands.

Dumbledore would offer him tea and sweets. He would let Snape rant and screech and pace until Snape was worn out, then Dumbledore would explain, with calm patience, why Snape simply had to obey, how vitally important it was to their goals, why no one but Severus Snape could possibly do what Dumbledore asked. The old goat would look at Snape with those impossibly blue eyes, full of hope and enough twinkle for a universe of stars, and Snape would give in, again, as he always did

Because Dumbledore was right. That annoying boy had to learn to screen his mind from the Dark Lord's influence. Dumbledore couldn't risk direct contact with the stupid child until such time as that idiot brat learned to protect his childish thoughts. And no one else at Hogwarts or in the Order, with the exception of Mad-Eye Moody, who was far too paranoid to teach Occulmency to anyone, even the Potter brat, had the gift or the training.

It was, as usual, up to Severus Snape to make the sacrifice.

Sighing, Snape rolled up the scroll, tied it with a bit of green ribbon, added a small card with a notation on date and reason, and took the resignation letter over to a glass-fronted cupboard filled with similar scrolls. He opened the door, noted that this was resignation No. 167, and slipped it in with the rest. Snape checked a few tags at random, remembering each letter. 

No. 60, with its reasoned arguments as to why Guilderoy Lockhart was the worst possibly choice for Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher short of a minion of the Dark Lord himself--ironic, that--was several pages long, ending with, "if you hire the git, I quit." Dumbledore had and Snape hadn't.

No. 94. "He's a WEREWOLF, for Merlin's sake! If you hire Remus Lupin to be the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, not only are you risking your reputation, you are risking the lives of children who might be eaten by the miserable beast. As someone who once nearly ended up as Lupin's evening repast, I can tell you he is a genuine danger, no matter how fond of him you are. If you consider hiring Lupin that important, you can hire a new Potions instructor while you're at it." Ha! He'd been right about that. Lupin had turned into a werewolf in front of three children and had nearly eaten the only hope they had for defeating the Dark Lord. Nice kettle of fish that would have been. Oops, sorry, Albus, but your pet werewolf ate Harry Potter and now we might as well all take the Dark Mark and learn to appreciate Voldemort's sense of humor.

Ah, No. 11. One of his earliest. Like No 60, it was a very long letter of resignation, explaining, in painful and precise detail, why Severus Snape was not at all suited for teaching and why Potions should only be taught to those students who truly had an aptitude for the art. That one had actually made it up to the Headmaster's desk, although it had never been read, and Snape had ended up bringing it back down to join the others.

No. 74. Minerva McGonagall and an argument over Quidditch and just how much milk should be put into the tea cups in the staff room had lead to that particular letter. As Snape recalled, there was even a rather amusing caricature of McGonagall, as a cat drinking out of saucer, in the margin. 

No. 126. That came about after the false Mad-Eye Moody had been sneaking around Snape's office. Snape had loathed Moody for years. Moody had been one of the Aurors who "questioned" Snape in the days after the Dark Lord's setback and that wooden-legged lunatic had not been beyond using a bit of plain old physical torture in addition to potions and spells, all supposedly to learn the truth. Snape, however, was quite certain it was really because Moody was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed hurting people. Moody was worse than Lucius Malfoy in that respect. At least Lucius admitted, openly and cheerfully, that he enjoyed torture and praticed it for his own pleasure. Moody was all sanctimonious about it, pretending that he was forced into abusing prisoners. Snape was sure Potter was in that hallway that night as well. He had felt Potter's terrified thoughts flickering at the edges of his mind. After confronting Moody and dealing with the idea that Potter had seen Snape in his nightgown, Snape had sat down and written one of his most impassioned and vitrolic letters of resignation.

Snape let his hand trail over that letter. He knew if he untied the ribbon and unrolled the letter, it would shout at him like a howler. By the time he had finished the letter, gotten dressed and gone up to see the Headmaster, he had been all but spitting fire. Albus had ended up casting a Calming Charm on Snape. That additional humiliation had nearly led to Snape casting an Unforgivable but, in the end, as usual, Snape ended up filing his resignation letter. 

He'd also gone out and bought three new nightgowns. They were identical to his old nightgowns, all grey flannel, with long sleeves and high collars and hung to the floor, but none of them had darned patches on the elbows or tea stains down the front.

No. 1. That letter made Snape wince to remember it. He had been miserable that day, only a few weeks into his first term at teaching. He had heard some Seventh Year girls giggling about his appearance. He was only five years older than they were. The girls remembered him from his student days. One of them had started to tell the story of That Incident after his Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL. Snape had stopped her before she got to the embarrassing bits and had deducted points, given detention and would have hexed the foolish chit had not Professor Flitwick wandered by and inquired why Professor Snape had his wand out. Albus had been very disappointed in him. The Headmaster had actually read that letter, going over it very seriously and explaining why it was absolutely necessary for Snape to remain at Hogwarts, both for Snape's own safety and because Hogwarts needed him. Snape had sulked, then gone back to his room and drank far more whiskey that was good for him. Snape stuffed the tag and the first letter into the very back of the cupboard.

No. 83. That letter hadn't been as serious as some of the others. It came about after a Christmas dinner and some enchanted mistletoe. He'd had too much to drink that night, too, but hadn't been quite as bitter. After all, nearly ten years had passed since the Dark Lord had disappeared, he had been teaching long enough that he no longer had to worry about tales of his student days being repeated and not a single Slytherin student had stayed over the holidays. No. 83 wasn't so much a resignation as a letter of complaint about some of his fellow instructors. Albus had actually read that one, since it was one of several letters on the subject of the dratted mistletoe, and agreed that, in future, no kissing charms were to be applied to mistletoe, no matter how amusing Professor Flitwick thought it. Albus had had to do something or Snape, Hooch and Sprout all would have quit. And Minerva McGonagal kept threatening to put her own eyes out. They had had to oblivate several students as well.

Snape's musings were interrupted by the flare of his fire. He turned to see the Headmaster there.

"Severus."

"Headmaster." 

Albus sighed. "Have you finished your letter yet?"

Snape nodded, his shoulders slumping. Was he that predictable?

"I am sorry, dear boy, but. . ."

Snape held his hand up. "I know, Albus, I know. And you're right. I don't have to be happy about it, though."

"None of us are happy about it, Severus." The Headmaster looked around Snape's room, probably checking to if anything was broken. "I have some Freak and Peen's biscuits that Aberforth sent. I haven't opened the tin yet, if you're interested."

Snape let out a long breath. He went to tidy his desk, putting away his good quill and his black ink, the sealing wax and ribbon, then turned and said, "Yes, Headmaster. I'll be right up."

Someday, Severus Snape promised himself as he stepped into the fire, if I survive The Daft Lord and The Idiot Potter Boy and The Lunatic Headmaster, I am going to resign for real.

 

The End 

 

April 24, 2005


End file.
